


Burning For You

by cardinalrachelieu



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Canon Compliant, EXCEPT NOT AU, F/M, Masturbation, Smut, aka the telepathic phone sex au we all needed, and i will continue to believe that until SJM publishes the darn thing and proves me wrong, i fully choose to believe this is how the first chapter of ACO3 will play out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7954537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalrachelieu/pseuds/cardinalrachelieu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner,” he replied.</p><p>“You did all you could.” The truth. He’d done everything in his power to tear me away from Rhys. A prickling sensation crept up my arm as I forced my talons to remain sheathed.</p><p> <em>Now, now, Feyre darling. You’ll ruin the game before it’s even begun.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning For You

**Author's Note:**

> So maybe I got a little tired of waiting for ACO3 and took matters into my own hands. I haven't decided if I'll continue this, though I do have a primitive story mapped out. (Tentative title: A Court of Ice and Flames)
> 
> *This sandbox belongs to Sarah J. Maas. I'm just playing in it for a little while.*

Tamlin’s hands felt cold — wrong — against my skin. Once they had been warm, welcome anchors, tethering me to the world when all I’d wanted to do was leave it. Now the feel of his palm against mine only served as a cruel reminder of how he’d used me. Imprisoned me. Controlled me. Separated me from my mate.

I wanted to vomit. This walk around the grounds had been an exercise in nausea control. I’d been back in the Spring Court for less than a week, and already I was growing tired of the part I was playing.

Instead I forced the corners of my lips to turn up and my eyes to soften until my face was the perfect picture of adoration. I couldn’t allow any outward cracks in my performance, lest Tamlin realize he’d unwittingly led a fox into the chicken coop. Lucien was already suspicious. I could feel his eyes on me as Tamlin led me up the staircase to the estate — to the prison I once thought a palace. Lucien had felt the pull of a mating bond, knew the strength of it, knew that tie was not so easily broken by a mad King boasting of powers far younger than the old magic which connected the souls of mated Fae. 

Tamlin, however, was oblivious. He truly believed he’d saved me — rescued me — from the clutches of the creature parents warned their children about, from the High Lord of the Court of Nightmares. Suddenly, I pitied him.

He was so blind. Always had been. I suppose he’d loved me — still loved me — in his own way. But I had long since stopped loving him. He’d ignored my declaration of independence, been willing to sacrifice everyone I loved just to claim me as his once more. Elain. Nesta. The mortal realm. All of it was expendable to him so long as he returned home with me, his prize. 

A snarl threatened to erupt from my throat the longer I fixated on his actions, remembered the look of triumph on his face when he believed the King had severed the mating bond.

_The King was a fool, and so is he._

Rhys.

His words were barely a whisper at the edges of my mind, echoing in the alcove I kept open for only him. I dared not seal off my mental shields completely for fear that I would be alone — completely alone — in enemy territory. Our bond had been weakened by the King’s actions, but it was far from broken. The mental link we shared had become more natural than breathing, and it only became stronger, clearer as the days passed and my daemati abilities grew.

The snarl that had been building in my chest transformed into laughter as I felt the familiar presence of my mate — my partner — soothe the raging fire fueled by the selfish actions of the High Lord of the Spring Court.

Tamlin turned to me, staring inquisitively. It had been months — nearly a full year — since he’d heard me laugh, seen me smile. The Spring Court had shed their masks a while ago, but somehow it still shocked me to see the bare skin of his cheeks. If only I’d been able to see through his disguise sooner. Then maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess, maybe I wouldn’t be separated from my family, my friends, my _mate_.

I noticed the shadow of purple beneath his emerald eyes. Perhaps he truly had been losing sleep during my absence.

Good. He deserved to know the torment of being separated from someone he loved.

“I’m just so happy to be home,” I offered, baring my teeth in some approximation of a smile. The warmth Rhys sent down the bond helped, made it feel less like a lie.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner,” he replied.

“You did all you could.” The truth. He’d done everything in his power to tear me away from Rhys. A prickling sensation crept up my arm as I forced my talons to remain sheathed.

_Now, now, Feyre darling. You’ll ruin the game before it’s even begun._

A game. Only Rhys would choose to call our current predicament a game, though I suppose his words held some truth. I _was_ playing a game… of sorts. My weapon of choice was deception, and the cost of losing was only everything and everyone I loved. Some game.

_You know full well you’d have already torn him to ribbons were our positions reversed._

_And I wouldn’t feel sorry about it._ Pure, unfiltered wrath. I felt Rhys put a damper on his emotions a heartbeat later, but his feelings had been clear.

 _Neither would I._ Amusement flickered through the bond, though I could also feel his anxiety, his apprehension about my role as a spy. Rhys wanted nothing more than to get me out, get me away from this ever-present danger. I may have been a fox in a chicken coop, but that rarely ended well for the fox. I wouldn’t be able to keep up this charade forever, and Rhys knew it.

As did Lucien.

Tamlin’s second was waiting for a crack in the façade to appear — some indication that my motives were anything short of pure. If this was going to work, I’d need to convince him, as well.

“I’ve missed you more than you know,” Tamlin confessed.

Oh, right. Tamlin. I’d almost forgotten about our current conversation. It took more effort to communicate with Rhys than it had in the past. The distance between us muted our connection, made it harder to feel and be felt.

I smiled gently, picturing the soft smear of rich colors that tinted the sky during a sunset in Velaris. The memory put me at ease, made my performance easier, more believable. It reminded me what I was fighting for. “I’m here now.” I squeezed his hand, reassuring him that I was something tangible, that he’d managed to bring me back, that he’d won.

He brought my hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over the delicate skin on the backs of my fingers — the skin that not so long ago held dark, swirling marks proclaiming my connection to Rhys for all to see.

I hated him then. Hated him for how he’d torn us apart, how he’d thought only of himself and his desires. I would bring his court to its knees from the inside. I would be his undoing.

And I would not show mercy.

“I’m feeling a bit tired,” I cooed, the honey dripping from my tone. “I’d like to go lay down, I think.” He wouldn’t dare refuse me this request, not after everything I’d been through. Not after the past few days.

“Of course,” he conceded, brows knitting together with mild concern. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

 

* * *

 

I had been beginning to weigh the pros and cons of unleashing the combined powers of the seven High Lords on Tamlin just before I’d managed to close the door to my quarters, but I could almost hear Azriel reprimanding me for wasting such a fountain of knowledge. Tamlin was a means to an end, and that end had not yet been met. The King of Hybern still lived, still threatened to destroy these lands — Rhys’s people, _my_ people — so Tamlin would live to see another sunrise.

I had just settled into a velvet-covered settee when a soft, quick knock sounded at my door. A moment later I recognized the cautious, low grumbling of my old handmaiden on the other side.

I could live with the entirety of the Spring Court burning to ashes, but not Alis. She had saved me when everyone else had turned a blind eye to my suffering. She had been the lone Fae — High or otherwise — to stand against Tamlin when I needed it most.

I ran to the door, yanking it open with enough force to cause the hinges to creak under the strain.

“Alis!” I nearly cried upon seeing her again, and suddenly I realized that Tamlin must not know what she’d done that day after he’d locked me inside. How, instead of asking Mor to return to her own Court, she’d only asked the blonde Fae to care for me, to watch over me. He never would have allowed Alis to return to his service if he knew the truth. But that would mean…

Lucien.

The red-haired Fae was the only one capable of spinning a half-truth the High Lord might have believed. Perhaps I could use that to my advantage in the coming days. I filed the knowledge away for later, focusing instead on the short, plump woman standing before me.

Alis stood rooted in place, her hands wringing together nervously in front of her smudged apron. “I heard you were back. I couldn’t believe it.” Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears, for what I didn’t know. Perhaps she’d bought into Tamlin’s delusion of me being brainwashed by a demon. Perhaps she was overcome with emotion at the reunion of her High Lord and his bride-to-be. Perhaps she missed my company. But then I saw it.

Fear.

She was afraid for me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I could feel Rhys bristle. He would have to wait. Alis had earned my full attention.

“Please, come in,” I urged.

Her arms were around me the moment the door clicked shut, crushing me in an urgent hug. She pulled away a moment later, bringing her rough hands to my face to cradle my cheeks as she forced me to look into her eyes. “You stupid, _stupid_ girl.” A single tear slid down her face.

I didn’t know what to say, what to do in response, so I simply gripped her forearms with my hands, squeezing gently as I waited for an explanation.

“She’s pregnant,” she breathed, lips pressing into a thin white line after the words were free.

I knew what the answer would be before I even asked the question. She could only be talking about one person… one awful, manipulative person. “Alis, who’s pregnant?” I had to be sure.

Silence.

“Alis. Who’s pregnant?” I asked again. For a moment I thought she wouldn’t answer me, that she’d lose what little nerve was currently holding her together.

“That witch.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, as though she was afraid someone might hear her. And maybe someone would, maybe her caution was founded. Perhaps I wasn’t the only spy in the Spring Court at present.

She blinked then, releasing my face before she stepped away and busied herself with turning down my bed. I was about to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but the words caught in my throat when I noticed her clothes. She had clearly been working in the kitchen judging by the tomato-red smears on her apron. If anyone found her in my room right now, she would need an excuse.

She always had been smart.

So Ianthe was pregnant. I could only assume by Alis’s secrecy that it was the High Lord’s child.

I should have expected Tamlin to lie to me again, to keep me in the dark. It was in his nature. I only thought that it would have taken longer. His hollow promise about wanting to include me this time around rang mockingly in my ears. It was almost satisfying to know he hadn’t changed. I would burn his world to the ground, and I would feel justified in doing so.

I could feel the fire underneath my skin then, the power of the High Lord of the Autumn Court raging through my veins, flames begging to burst free. Hot, so hot, so simple to let a spark ignite…

Cool, soothing night enveloped me, and I recognized it immediately as Rhys’s doing.

_So then you know._

_Yes, and so does Azriel._

I’m sure the Spy Master was already busy figuring out how this information could be used to our advantage.

I walked to the window as Alis continued readying my quarters for the evening. The sun was sinking low over a far away hill, and it would soon be time for me to head downstairs for the evening meal with the other High Fae of the Spring Court. My stomach dropped at the thought of being in the same room as them again. It was exhausting to pretend I was happy here, happy to have been rescued — stolen, more accurately. It made me want to scream.

 _You are not a prisoner._ His confidence was reassuring, but it didn’t completely chase away the feeling nipping at my psyche.

_Then why do I feel like one?_

The latch to my quarters clicked once again, and I spun in place, startled by the sound. Cauldron, it was distracting to communicate with Rhys. Thankfully, no one had come in. In fact, it appeared as if Alis had silently excused herself since her reason for being in my room had expired.

 _You seem tense, Feyre, darling,_ he mused.

 _You try being a spy in the Court of your ex-fiancé._ I felt his growl rumble in my mind, his revulsion pulsing in waves. I winced. He didn’t need the reminder of where I was or whom I was with. I’d been careless with my words. He was sacrificing just as much as I was, and he didn’t need to shoulder any more guilt for it.

 _Say the word and I’ll get you out._ His tone turned serious, and I wanted nothing more than to be near enough to touch him, hold him, breathe him in. He cared for me so deeply, so earnestly, it ached to be apart from him.

 _You’d start a war._ It was more of a reminder to myself, a reason why I couldn’t accept his offer.

 _I’d start a thousand wars if you asked it of me._ I knew he meant it, too.

 _So dramatic,_ I teased, but I knew he would tear this realm apart to get me back. He would wreck every Court in the land, but only if and when I said I was ready to be done. His devotion was intoxicating, but his complete trust in both me and my judgment was what did me in.

I couldn’t help the way my cheeks flushed or the way heat pooled low in my core. I briefly thought about concealing my desire, until a better idea came to me. My mouth turned up in a grin as I said, _I think you’re right about me being tense._ _I think…_ I paused, making sure my emotions were raw as I said, _I’m in need of a hot bath._

Rhys went silent once he caught my meaning, but I could feel his own desire begin to echo mine as I made my way to the washroom. Enemy territory or not, I had needs.

Candles were scattered about the washroom, white and cream and soft rose in hue. With a snap of my fingers they came blazing to life, and the sweet tang of magic washed over my senses. It hadn’t been much, but even the small release of energy eased my mind. I was beginning to understand why the Illyrians used siphons. The build up of magic began to itch insistently if it wasn’t used.

I filled the porcelain tub with ice-cold water and used Beron’s fire to heat it, the steam rising off it in thick wisps. Another small release. A moment later the air was heavy with moisture, and all the mirrored surfaces in the room were coated in a layer of translucent fog. I had never felt such relief as the moment I peeled the constricting Spring Court attire from my body and sank into the near scalding water, the warm caress of it immediately beginning to work loose the knots I’d developed in my shoulders and back.

Then, heat of a different kind crept up my body, and my hand obeyed the siren song calling it lower, lower, lower…

 _Feyre darling, I’m in a meeting,_ he warned.

 _I’m not._ He could easily close off his mind to me if he wanted, if the meeting was really that important.

 _You wicked thing,_ he scolded, but his words lacked bite.

A chill ran up my spine as the fingers of my right hand slipped lower still while those of my left began tracing lazy, delicate circles over my breast. I sucked in a sharp breath as I brushed my entrance with a feather-light touch.

 _Tell me how wicked I am._ I can’t say what caused the words to come out of me, but his immediate, searing reaction to them left me without any time to feel embarrassed.

 _Touching yourself without me there to help? It’s simply cruel._ So maybe it was.

 _I seem to remember a certain High Lord causing me to slam into a stairwell once because of the naughty things he was imagining._ My palm closed around the soft skin of my breast, and my eyes fluttered shut.

 _So then this is payback._ I could feel the swell of admiration when he realized he’d been bested at his own game.

 _I’m only returning the favor._ I moaned then, low and long, as I slid a finger inside my entrance.

 _You’re so considerate._ His tone was sharp, strained, and I could tell he was barely able to force himself to concentrate on whatever was happening around him.

Sparks shot through me as I added a second finger and quickened my pace. The water sloshed and lapped at my neck, soaking my hair and spilling over the edge of the tub. Every word he said served to stoke the fire in my core, and it was all amplified by pulses of his own pleasure, which he made sure I felt.

If I closed my eyes tight enough, if I concentrated on his voice hard enough, it _almost_ felt his fingers were the ones moving inside me, like his hand was the one between my thighs, like he was the one driving me to the edge of this cliff. Almost.

 _I need you, Rhys._ I ached to feel his mouth on me, to have his teeth graze my skin and his hands work me over, to feel the weight of his body atop mine and his breath hot on my neck as he pounded into me over and over and over again.

 _Feyre, please…_ he rasped, my name a prayer on his lips. Everything dimmed around me — the soft light from the candles, the surrounding warmth from the water, the biting chill of the air on my exposed skin — until there was only Rhys, only my mate.

 _Say it again._ I wanted to hear his voice — needed to hear his voice. If I couldn’t touch him, couldn’t taste him, couldn’t see him, I at least needed to hear him.

 _Feyre…_ This time he was more insistent, more in control, and it made my toes curl under and the muscles in my core go taught.

 _Again,_ I demanded, begging for release as I pumped my fingers in quick strokes, my walls contracting around the movement. If I focused on Rhys’s voice, it was easier to imagine that he was here with me, that his fingers were the ones brushing against that spot just so…

 _Feyre,_ he purred, warm, inky darkness coating my mate’s words and pushing me closer, closer, closer. _I want you to come for me._ The world outside ceased to exist. There was only Rhys and the way he was saying my name. Desire burned through my body, threatening to consume me. The whole of Prythian could have crumbled around me and I still would only have heard him. _Come for me, Feyre._

I bit down on my lip to stop the sound escaping my throat as the coil inside me snapped and my release crashed over me like a wave on a rocky shore. Pleasure tore through me, radiating out until every inch of my body felt like it had been set aflame.

I slumped against the hard, unforgiving wall of the tub, utterly spent — both from the physical exertion and from maintaining the mental tether for such a long time. Slowly, so slowly, the world came back into focus. First, the heat of the water. Then the chill of the air. Then the sound of my breathing, relaxed and even.

My arm felt heavy as I withdrew my fingers, and suddenly a devious thought crossed my mind. Before I could talk myself out of it, I brought my hand to my mouth and dragged my slick fingers across my lips, the heady taste of me coating my tongue.

Rhys swore, and I couldn’t help but feel satisfied. _You cruel, wicked thing._

“Lady Feyre,” a small voice called from the other side of the washroom door.

I jerked sideways in the tub, causing water to splash onto the floor as I stifled a yelp of surprise.

“Lady Feyre, I’m here to help you dress for dinner.” I relaxed a beat later when I realized it was only a handmaiden, though it would take my heart minutes to calm back down from the unexpected interruption.

And then I felt booming laughter echo through my mind.

_Prick._

_Hope you enjoy dinner, lady Feyre,_ he chuckled.

I slammed the hard adamant of my mental shields up, severing my connection with Rhys temporarily, but it did little to stop me from feeling his unrestrained amusement.

I extended my arm behind me, wrapping my fingers around a dry, white towel. Carefully, I stepped out of the bath and draped the cotton cloth around me, walking over to the door a moment later to greet the handmaiden.

I opened the door to find a petit, blue-skinned Fae meekly holding up two gowns, presumably for me to choose between. So I was back to playing dress up and pretending to care about things like which accessories best complemented my attire. It took everything I had to not roll my eyes at her.

“I think I’d like to wear the blue one,” I said kindly. Pale blue with long sleeves and bits of beading across the tight bodice, it reminded me a bit of the dress I had worn on Starfall. It felt like home, like Velaris, like Rhys.

The Fae nodded her approval and began helping me dress, turning her head politely when it was time for me to drop my towel.

Rhys caressed my mental shields, begging to be let back in. I obliged, drinking in his comforting presence, his unwavering devotion. I could do this, _had_ to do this. Elain and Nesta were depending on me. Mor and Azriel and Cassian and Amren were depending on me. Rhys was depending on me. The whole of the _realm_ was depending on me.

 _I’ll be with you the entire time,_ he assured me.

 _I can handle myself._ I wanted to believe it — needed to believe it — if I was going to make it downstairs, if I was going to face Tamlin and Lucien again.

 _I’m aware,_ he said sincerely. _But I want you to know that you’re not alone, not anymore._

I could do this. I could do this. I could do this.

_Yes. You can._

Suddenly the handmaiden stepped back, the signal that I was complete. Ready. With a deep breath, I picked up the hem of my dress and walked to the staircase, each step surer than the last as I made my way down.

I held my head high as I strode into the large dining room, a faux smile on my face as Tamlin and Lucien rose from their seats at the table to greet me, both wholly unaware they were about to break bread with the High Lady of the Night Court.

“Good evening,” I said warmly, Tamlin too distracted by my appearance and Lucien too unsure of my motives to return the pleasantry. “I’m famished.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated <3


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